Issue #37: Rooted in the Forest by Sarah Wu

Lessons on Community, Ecology, and Belonging in the Tropics

Author: Sarah Wu; Editor: Jeff Benson

The Rhythm of Change in the Machuca Valley

A Machuca Elements newsletter from October generated a particularly interesting thread in the Whatsapp group about the transient nature of the many communities popping up in our valley and the high turnover of residents and renters.

Having immigrated to Costa Rica 15 years ago (my “quinceñera” is actually on December 9), I have noticed this trend not only in the Machuca Valley but also in Costa Rica in general. 

In my practice and studies as a deep ecologist, herbalist, permie, and long-term resident, I see some obvious correlations between our ecosystem and our human experience. I find community structuring particularly interesting and am constantly trying to fit our human experience into the forest model, asking myself pretty much daily, “WWTFD: What Would the Forest Do?” 

For those not versed in tropical forest ecology, the cycle of life and death here is expedited in ways most folks are not accustomed to. People coming from temperate northern climates see trees 10 meters tall and are shocked to learn they are not hundreds of years old, but a fraction of that.

The Machuca Valley is in an ecotone, meaning we’re on the edge of two different microclimates—the wet tropics and the dry tropics—while also having our own unique ecosystem. So we get these hot, dry summers and very wet winters, with that sweet San Juanillo or the Veranillo in July. Our elevation lends itself to deliciously comfortable nights and a lack of mosquito activity. And if you pay attention to wildlife, we can see some interesting birds and fauna. I’ve seen deer, ocelots, puma, tayra, armadillo, pizotes, opossums, bats, skunks, anteaters, coyote, nutria, olingo. We’ve had visits from the scarlet macaws, king vultures, spectacled owls, laughing falcons and countless other winged friends. I have seen cat-eyed snakes, rat-eating snakes, vine snakes, terciopelos, and boas, fatty turnip-tail geckos, 30-year-old tarantulas, and purple praying mantises the size of my pinky nail. I’ve seen moths bigger than my hand with jaguar eye spots, and I have had my house infested by invasive beetles. 

Despite occupying only 0.0001% of the global landmass, Costa Rica boasts around 4% of the planet’s biodiversity, mostly in insects! This country itself is an ecotone! We exist on a tiny strip of earth called a land bridge or, officially, the Isthmus of Panama, that began to form 24 million years ago and finally closed just 3 million years ago, uniting the North American and South American continents. When this happened, it opened migration to species from both these continents and allowed unique species to evolve here—many very specialized (endemic) to niche bioregions. All you have to do is browse through the hummingbird section of the Birds of Costa Rica book to see species that occupy tiny areas in the high mountains, not found anywhere else on earth!

How does this relate to our species, us silly humans?!

Costa Rica for a long time has been on the hippie, soul-seeking, spiritual travelers path, along with Tulum, Oaxaca, San Marcos, Quitos, Maui, Ibiza, Goa, and Bali. It’s one of those locales that serves as a crossroads in personal development. And because of the ease of travel, relative safety, and stability of this country, people have always ventured in and out. The boom of folks wanting to live in ecovillages and communities started in the first decade of the 20th century and really created a wave during the pandemic. The country relies on tourism and kept open borders to keep the cash flowing into businesses. Many folks tried jumping ship from the US and Europe in search of a gentler, supposedly more free way to live. And while this country is the home of the Pura Vida, it’s also facing some very harsh realities from foreigners entering the country. 

Gentrification is real, friends, and the massive homes many are building are leading to an imbalance in our area’s culture. It’s making land prices unaffordable for locals, changing the tax brackets, and creating a wealth gap never seen here before. Costa Rica used to have a strong middle class, which is falling apart because of the wave of foreign purchases. While you may think you are a part of a solution by living in an ecovillage, you may in fact be part of the problem, which is only exacerbated by a lack of humility and acculturation.

For those of you who know me and my work, you know that I teach, think, and express myself quite often in metaphor and symbol. (For those of you new to my work, now you know.) So as we explore the nature of the forest, I want you to imagine yourself as an organism in this great ecosystem. Hopefully, by the end, you will understand why some of us are able to stay and create a life for ourselves here and why many of us drift away. 

There are many different roles species fill in an ecosystem. These are called niches, and a species occupies space (both in terms of organism size and territory), time (how long it lives), and function (what it does). Each niche interacts with various other niches, communicating, cooperating, and competing for territory and resources. 

Competition is especially fierce when two or more species occupy the same niche. Take, for example, your cat and a snake. They predate on the same prey and are both highly territorial. Cats especially compete with terrestrial snakes; arboreal snakes not so much. Or what about the naturalized mango tree and the native jocote? The naturalized breadfruit or the native ajoche? These species occupy a similar canopy diameter, have similar water needs, and even fulfill similar dietary profiles.

In the tropics, you may have noticed, it rains a lot—around 3m a year. Therefore, we have very poor soil, mostly lost to erosion. The majority of the biomass exists in the canopy, with evergreen foliage, fungi, lichens, arboreal animals, and insects. It is hard for species to take root, and even when they do, the structures are not hyper-stable. The stability comes from the interwoven crowns and vines holding everything together and roots that buttress themselves, reaching long and far on the surface layers of the soil. And with the amount of shade present from the canopy, it’s hard to establish tiny root systems for new seeds, especially when it dumps rain and they wash away. 

Let’s correspond this to human society. 

Canopy trees represent key figures in the community, those who hold groups together, organize, lead, and support others in various ways. New folks who may fill those niches in other places may want to naturally step into these roles in the community. But without vast root systems and connections, it is hard for them to get established. Many plants in the tropics can be grown by cutting, meaning you take a branch from one and stick it in the ground, cloning it. While we are able to replicate a species and get it established in place, its root system also is precarious because cuttings, unlike seeds, are not able to grow taproots that reach deep into the soil, anchoring them in place. 

For humans, this looks like pop-up communities, or condos. They try to mimic a village but lack the interconnection and deep roots that come with being acculturated to a place. Many species are also what we call epiphytes. These are plants like orchids and bromeliads that do not need soil to survive, instead taking the nutrients they need from the atmosphere. Yet for all their abundance, epiphytes are very susceptible to wind and often get blown off their branches, where they are left to rot on the forest floor. Sound like short-term renters to you? 

If you have paid attention to the river, have you seen the amount of water that can flow?! And imagine it having the force to move boulders, so things that seem fixed are often displaced by forces of nature out of our control. How about those long-term people we love and trust, whom we look to for stability? But their families are continents away; a parent becomes sick and they move away.

Or how about those landslides? The destabilization of soil occurs not only from the severity of the slope but also from a lack of deep root systems. Short-term investors looking to make a quick buck.

And maybe you have paid attention to the rate of growth and decay. Remember that leather-something you packed when you moved here? What has happened to it? Oh right, it’s full of mold! It’s happened to me, and I have a few tricks I’ll tell you about another time. But what does that tell you? Fungi, our great communicator, immunomodulator, consciousness raiser, and nutrient holder is also the great destroyer. Sweet Anton, this is you! Connecting us with ideas and perspectives, breaking down and weeding through our perceptions. Good job!! 

And then there are the insects, countless detritivores working to break down your compost and books, pollinating, biting, stinging, singing, multiplying. They never tire. 

Decay and impermanence is the nature of the tropics. 

The oldest trees are, at most, 400 years old as this ecosystem turns over much more rapidly than temperate regions. It’s the native species, canopy trees, and the process that are long lasting. 

But it is important to know that the short-term species are important for the health of the system. Plants like dormilona and gavilana are not found deep in the forest but along the edges and the open spaces. These are healing species, but ones with thorns and bitter flavors. These plants teach and bring relief, they prepare and protect the soil. We learn a lot from those who leave and those who prepared the place for you to land, the ones who spawned ideas and projects, the ones who pop up and stay around for just a moment. Some leave marks in our hearts and minds; some we forget or never even know.

Why people go?

I have seen so many folks come and go. I don’t even feel a moment of surprise to hear when someone is moving. The reality is, this ecosystem is not for everyone. Many come here with this idea that Costa Rica is a paradise. They see pictures of the lush green, the waves, and the colorful fruits, and they have one idea… and then they realize there are exponentially more bugs than humans, that every single thing you own can and will smell like mildew, that your skin may not love the equatorial sun or the humidity. 

For others, it’s a huge investment that means you have to hustle for wages that aren’t easily made in Costa Rica, so you are looking for work abroad. Instead of living your dream in the garden, you are stuck behind the screen. 

For some, they just don’t vibe with the place or the people. Or their kids don’t like it, or their partner didn’t make any friends. There are lots of reasons why some people stay and some people leave. When we look to the forest as our social model, it is important to understand who you are in the ecology of the place. 

Living Elementally: Questions to Guide Your Journey

I curate a 115-hour class called Soul to Soil: Personal Permaculture in which I teach the standard Permaculture Design Certificate(PDC) accompanied by social permaculture focusing on personal niche. Students try to understand who they are in society—not the society that seeks to make you a dispensable cog in the machine, but within a community that relates with land and people in a regenerative way. 

In one exercise, we look at all the different organisms in the ecosystem: the long-lived canopy tree who sees far, with deep roots, strong trunk and often shades out the rest and is the king/queen of the forest. The boulder holding tight to the landscape, steady, heavy, reliable and present. The flowing river, constantly seeking another place, always in movement; one who inspires and nourishes with their presence. The song bird who brings joy with their voice. The ground cover, one who holds space, protects and isn’t so good with boundaries. The scavenger who keeps the system clean, digs up the dirt and works with decay. The predator who sees and takes opportunities. The gentle fern who grows in the shade of the canopy, who takes little and offers so much beauty. 

Really take a look at who you are. Your personality, behavior, and reason for being. Ask how you fit into the ecosystem and what you give and what you need to survive. What other organisms do you relate with that support your life process and which organisms threaten or limit you? 

Then take a hard look at the whole ecosystem: Is it one where you as an organism can thrive? Are you trying to force the function? Like attempting over and over again to grow a fatty beef steak tomato in San Mateo?

Permaculture is about appropriate design, not just “eco” design. So when we think about what is appropriate for the landscape and our own families, we have to ask deeper questions that address the entirety of our being. Is this ecosystem actually right for me? If you run hot and don’t like humidity, why would you want to live here? If you need AC in your home to be comfortable, why would you want to live here? If you don’t like bugs, why would you want to live here? If you aren’t good at learning new languages, why would you move to a different country? 

If you can’t naturalize yourself to the economics of the place, why would you relocate there? 

I see this happening for folks when they arrive. They struggle with work; not everyone has an entrepreneurial spirit, and not everyone is legally allowed to work. Or maybe the skills they have pay different here and they built a house out of line with what they could make living here. I also see folks struggling with the weather. This is the key thing I ask my mentees and clients who come to me for readings or advice. Before you decide to move somewhere, I tell people to get elemental with it:

Earth: What climate does my body feel best in? What does and doesn’t it like? What foods do I want to eat? (If you love peaches and berries and can’t live without them, Costa Rica isn’t for you if you don’t want to eat imported food.) 

Air: Where am I mentally? Am I in a deep personal process that I think relocating would solve all my problems? Am I in a place to meet new people, to be around new ideas and ideologies? What are my ideologies and political motivations? Do they match with the place? Am I wanting to live in a bubble or with diversity? What is my value system?

Water: What are my emotional and social needs? What are my dreams and desires? Where am I in my spiritual evolution, and do I want to be in a place where I find people practicing a similar spirituality or am I open to being solo in it? Is my family happy here? 

Fire: What motivates and inspires me? What kinds of people, places, events, activities, etc get me excited and active? Where do I want to put my energy, and what feeds my fire? 

Spirit: What is the nature of my relationship to life in general? Where am I in my own personal evolution, and where do I want to go/be? What is my path of personal destiny, and who walks it with me?

Then I ask you also: What does community mean to you? What are your expectations and needs from those you live near? Are you naturally introverted or extroverted? What fills you up and what depletes you? What are your personal limits and what do you want to grow in? What do you have to offer in great and small ways? What is a meaningful connection? Are you making connections fluidly or are their blocks? Why?

Then the deepest question when it comes to elective immigration: How am I affecting the community I am immigrating to? And how can I naturalize myself in a reasonable period of time? What does privilege mean to me, how am I working to dismantle systems of harm? 

If you just want an investment property and a lucrative Airbnb, maybe this isn’t the right place for you. You’ll probably end up like the soil on a steep slope, rootless and washed away down the river.

If you want to last here, you need to tend the roots of your being. You need to learn Spanish, you need to make Tico friends, you need to acculturate and get out of your bubble. Otherwise you will never feel home.

blessed be,

Sarah

P.S. One step in the decolonization of the mind is to stop calling yourself an expat. This is a privileged and class-based title that shouts lack of acculturation, little sensitivity to the class struggles of this country, and a sense of entitlement. Call yourself what you are, an immigrant, guest, and visitor here. People will respect you more for that one small thing.

Sarah Wu is the Village Witch, herbalist, permaculturist, mentor, teacher and Tacotaleña. You can learn with her at her home Casa Colibri, at Finca Vida Verde, at Machucampo and La Huerta Farm School. She offers wellness support, mentorship and Tarot readings and operates a small apothecary for custom formulations. She also curates and produces events of all sizes. 

https://villagewitch.org
https://anima-viva.com

Comic by Anton